


Failure

by unspeakable3



Series: welcome to the most noble and ancient house of black [55]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Family-centric (Harry Potter), Death Eaters, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Morally Ambiguous Character, POV Regulus Black, Regulus Black Feels, Regulus Black-centric, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 00:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unspeakable3/pseuds/unspeakable3
Summary: "Perhaps you won’t fail to please our Lord now you have experienced his punishments.”





	Failure

It was a cold, damp night and Grimmauld Place was covered in that heavy fog-like silence that often accompanied the Witching Hour. The muggles were all abed but they wouldn’t have noticed the candlelit glow from the window of Number Twelve’s parlour anyway, hidden from their view as it was.

Under the cover of darkness, the youngest Black apparated noisily into the narrow alleyway that ran alongside the house and promptly vomited all over his shoes.

His body was still convulsing and he slowly, awkwardly, manoeuvred himself into a sitting position so he might not do too much harm if he were to collapse. The concrete floor was wet beneath his robes and he realised he had probably sat in the puddle of vomit but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He had failed, and he had been punished, but he had been allowed to live. How gracious of their Lord.

Eventually his convulsions settled into twitches and the echoes of pain coursing through his nervous system became tolerable, and he forced himself up and into the house.

Mother was sat in the parlour with a large glass of neat gin, waiting.

“Did you enjoy your little meeting, Regulus?”

“Not particularly.”

She looked up, surprised by his tone, and he shoved his hands into his pockets so she might not see them shaking.

“You look terrible,” she said, narrowing her eyes in a scrutinising gaze. “What is that mess all over your robes? Why are you twitching? KREACHER!”

Regulus grimaced as her shriek sent fresh waves of pain crashing over his weakened mind and felt himself stumbling forwards, he closed his eyes and couldn’t stop himself falling, and when he opened them he was staring at his bedroom ceiling.

To his surprise, his mother’s face loomed into view.

He blinked, twice, but she wasn’t an apparition.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “Why have you been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse?”

Regulus groaned and closed his eyes again. “It was a punishment.”

“For what?”

“Failure. He… he had ordered me to torture a child, Mother. I couldn’t. I _wouldn’t._”

“Well. Perhaps you won’t fail to please our Lord now you have experienced his punishments.”

Regulus opened his eyes and stared at her in disbelief. “Did you hear what I said? Mother! A _child!_”

“I heard you perfectly, Regulus. Get some sleep, you’re clearly over-tired.”

And she left him.


End file.
